The Language of Flowers
by Angel Grace
Summary: A little Valentine's Day mystery. Short story. Complete.


Pairing: R/? (But I'll give you 3 guesses! :P)

Rating: PG

Spoilers: Anything up to and including "It Should've Been Lorelai"

Summary: A little Valentine's Day mystery.

The Language of Flowers

By Grace

                The incessant beeping of the alarm clock had only just begun to penetrate the haze of Rory's mind when she was unceremoniously jolted into full wakefulness by a large thump on the bed beside her.

                Turning her bleary eyes towards the intruder—otherwise known as her mother—Rory mumbled, "Go away."

                "I will not, child of mine!  Now get up—it's Valentine's Day!"

                "So?  You hate Valentine's Day.  It's also a Thursday.  You hate Thursdays almost as much as Valentine's Day."

                "My hatred of one negates the other.  Besides, the Thursday aversion has abated since our discovery of _C.S.I._ and the refunnification of _Friends_."

                "A, it's way too early to be making up words.  B, _C.S.I._ is a rerun tonight.  And C, _Friends_ isn't on because of the Olympics."

                Lorelai clapped her hands together in delight.  "Ooh, then we can watch Bob Costas be all snide and condescending!  Maybe the figure skating judges will give more medals to the wrong people!"

                "You're insane.  Now go away."

                Lorelai began to pout.  "Why are you so cranky?  You _have_ a boyfriend.  A cute, tall, car-building, BattleBots-loving boyfriend."

                "Having a boyfriend doesn't really make 6 a.m. on a Thursday all that much more fun."

                "For your information, it's now 6:07 a.m., and you have school today.  Up, up, up!"

                Much to Rory's relief, Lorelai finally bounded out of the bedroom.  Groaning, she hauled herself out of bed and headed for the shower.  Dean or no Dean, she really hated Valentine's Day.

*              *                *

                Like failure, Valentine's Day may be a part of life, but it was not a part of Chilton.  Rory was actually relieved by the lack of heart decorations, candy kisses, and red-clad teenagers she was sure were present at Stars Hollow High.  The only concessions to the Cupid-fest were the large, expensive flower arrangements that Rory's various female classmates were routinely called down to the front office to retrieve.  Knowing that such a gesture was well out of Dean's price range, Rory was stunned when she was summoned during last period.

                Her eyes widened in astonishment when she stepped into the office.  Sitting on the counter was a gigantic white, yellow, and purple bouquet of flowers.

                The headmaster's secretary looked up when Rory arrived.  "Ah, Miss Gilmore.  You seem to have quite an ardent admirer."

                Rory was still dumbstruck.  "Yes, I guess I do."

                Hefting the bulky arrangement, Rory headed back to class, speechless.  Twenty-nine pairs of eyes turned and gaped when she walked back into English literature.  She set the flowers at the back of the room with all the others, and quietly reclaimed her seat.

                The remaining minutes ticked by slowly, but Rory was grateful for the delay.  She knew that as soon as class ended, she would be bombarded with questions.

                Sure enough, once the bell rang, Louise, Madeline, Paris, and five or six other girls made a beeline for her desk.

                Louise, as usual, pounced first.  "So, Rory, who are they from?"

                Rory shrugged.  "I haven't read the card yet.  Probably my boyfriend."

                "Oh, right.  What did he do, rob a bank?" Paris snarked.

                Ever the peacemaker, Madeline interjected, "Why don't you open the card now?"

                Knowing there was no way out of the situation, Rory obliged.  Crossing to the back of the room, she swiftly plucked out the card and opened it.

                "What does it say?" called one girl.

                Brows furrowed, Rory began to read.  "'There's rosemary, that's for remembrance.  Pray you, love, remember.'  Happy Valentine's Day."

                "That's from _Hamlet_," piped up Paris.  "But who are they from?"

                "I don't know.  The card isn't signed."

                "Ooh, Rory has a secret admirer," drawled Louise.

                Rory shook her head vehemently.  "Oh, no, I'm sure it was just a mistake at the florist.  Dean _must_ have sent them."

                Disappointed by her dismissal of the mystery, the crowd of girls dispersed, leaving Rory to lug the flowers to her locker and then onto the bus.  The arrangement took up nearly the entire seat, but she managed to get it back to Stars Hollow without spilling or breaking anything.

                When the bus pulled into town, Rory could see Dean waiting for her at the bus stop.  Stepping off of the bus, she watched his face darken at the sight of the flowers.

                "Happy Valentine's Day," she said weakly.

                "Where did those come from?" he asked angrily.

                "I thought they were from you!  Guess not…"

                Dean threw his hands up in the air.  "How could they _possibly_ be from me, Rory?  They would cost me, like, a month's salary!"

                "Dean, calm down, okay?  They're probably from my grandparents or something."

                "Let me see the card," he demanded.

                Setting the vase on the sidewalk, she fished the small envelope out of her backpack.  He read it quickly, then asked, "So what's this quote from?"

                "It's Shakespeare.  _Hamlet_, actually."

                Dean's scowl deepened even more.  "Jess," he growled before turning on his heel and taking off towards the diner.

                "Dean, wait!" Rory yelled while running after him, leaving the flowers near the curb.

                When she burst into Luke's, Dean was grabbing Jess by the front of his shirt.  "What do you think you're doing, sending flowers to my girlfriend?"

                "I don't know what you're talking about, but if you don't get your hands off me, you'll never be able to tell me!"

                "Dean, Jess, stop it!" yelled Rory.  By the time she reached them, Dean had reluctantly released the shorter boy.

                "Dean, give me the card and go wait outside."

                "Rory…"

                "Please?  It will just take a couple minutes."

                "Fine."  He thrust the card into her hand and stomped out of the diner.

                Jess ran a hand through his thick, dark hair.  "What the hell was that all about?"

                "Someone sent me flowers.  They came with this."  She handed him the card.  "Do you know anything about it?"

                His eyebrows went up when he read the short message.  "Ophelia from _Hamlet_.  Interesting choice.  But no, I try not to quote suicidal characters when sending flowers to beautiful girls."

                Rory flushed at the offhanded compliment.  "If you didn't send them, who did?"

                Jess shrugged.  "Somehow, I think your guess is better than mine."  As he was replacing the card in the envelope, he paused, then lifted it up for closer inspection.  "There's something else in here."

                "What is it?"

                Carefully, Jess pulled out a thin strip of paper.  "It's a web address," he announced.

                She took the paper from him.  "Do you think it's some kind of clue?"

                "I'd say it's worth investigating, Nancy."

                Rory grinned.  "So who does that make you?  Bert or Dave?"

                "Why not Ned?"

                Rory blushed again.  "Look, I need to get going.  I'll let you know what I find out."

                "Whatever.  Happy Valentine's Day, Rory."

                "You too, Jess."

                Dean had retrieved the flowers and downgraded from a sulk to a pout by the time Rory met him outside.  "So?"

                "It wasn't Jess."

                "What, and we're just supposed to believe him?" he scoffed.

                "I _do_ believe him, Dean.  Now come on, walk me home."

*              *                *

                Dean ended up staying for dinner—a heart-shaped pizza—and giving Rory an audio book copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ to play in her new car.  It was several hours before he left, but as soon as he did, she went straight to her computer to do some detective work.

                Quickly, she typed in the mystery web address: www.victorianbazaar.com/meanings.html. To her surprise, it led to a page titled "Language of Flowers."  Gazing at the imposing bouquet that now rested on the coffee table, she began to wonder if the message was in the flowers themselves.  She grabbed a piece of scrap paper and jotted down the types of flowers in the arrangement.  Scrolling down the page, this was what she found:

BABY'S BREATH—Innocence, Pure of Heart

DAFFODIL—Regard, Unrequited Love, Sunshine, Respect, The sun shines when I'm with you

HYACINTH (PURPLE)—Sorry, Please forgive me, Sorrow

TULIP (YELLOW)—There's Sunshine In Your Smile

LILY (WHITE)—Virginity, Purity, Majesty, It's Heavenly to be with you, Youth

GARDENIA—You're lovely, Secret love, Purity, Refinement

BUTTERCUP—Childishness, Riches

                As she read on, the blood began to pound in her ears; the words of the descriptions thrumming like a rhythm in her head.  There was only one person it could be.  Only one person who needed to apologize.  Only one person who taunted her with Biblical virgin references.  Only one person who was rich and childish.

                Only one person who was far enough away that she might not remember.

                Only one person who was, apparently, secretly in love with her.

                One name.  One kiss.  One…

                Tristan.

_finis_

A/N: Yes, yes, I'm know I'm evil to end it there.  But seeing how much I despise V-Day, it seemed fitting.


End file.
